


9 - Aeturnus

by distantstarlight



Series: 31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 31 Days of Porn Challenge 2017, Day 9, Hot Cold, M/M, i don't know how to tag this one, not very porny at all, placeholder for day 9?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: It's all about finding the one that fits you best.





	9 - Aeturnus

When Sherlock was on a case he was fire. He burned bright like a star, brilliant and illuminating, a jewel shining in the blackness, too fiery and consuming to remain close to, ripping people apart if they strayed too close and became caught in the destructive magnetism of his basic character. John Watson was steady and prepared, surrounding Sherlock like dark matter, containing him but never constraining him, moving wherever Sherlock went but never suffering from the demolition of his inner self, somehow immune from the worst that Sherlock gave out, and brought to life by the best that Sherlock represented.

When John Watson was angry he was an inferno. He burned hard and raging but at his worst, he could not melt the icy disdain of his best friend. When they fought it was a battle of titans, unequal yet matched, their strengths and weaknesses in perfect balance with one another so that there was never a winner nor ever a loser, merely one leading the other in their turn as they made their way through life together.

When Sherlock and John were apart they were barren icefields, lifeless and unchanging, bitter and destructive, filled with the harm that they did to themselves and anyone foolish enough to provoke their ire. Capable of casual destruction, each man was a weapon, death was their trade, and it hardly mattered to either if that death was brought to their foes or to themselves.

When Sherlock and John were together, they were unstoppable. United, they carved a swathe through the criminal underbelly of London, making a name for themselves that was recognised around the entire world. For the sake of each other, entire illegal empires crumbled into dust, all unable to defend themselves from the fury and precision of their retribution.

When Sherlock and John hated, it was implacable and devoid of mercy. When pushed beyond their boundaries, their enemies learned the full scope of making a good man into a bad one, and unleashing simple curiosity and turning it into a quest to know more of how to keep the pain going. Once inspired to do ill, neither Sherlock nor John balked at using all they knew about the human body to gain retribution or retaliation. Broken bones or even death, anything could happen when their carefully directed rage was finally unfettered.

When Sherlock and John loved, it was all consuming. The brilliance of it was such that it warmed more than they two, it cast its dedication on whole groups of people, an entire community of people, a whole country. For love, they would defy any odd, overcome any obstacle, outwit any foe. For love, there was no in-between, no grey area, no tepid degree. For them, love was all, love was everything, love was the sum total of who they were. Without the other, there was neither, and that was a simple truth. Each man began his path on his own but would end it alongside the person who needed them the most, who suited them the best.

When Sherlock and John fucked, it was everything they could make it. After years of life together and apart, crossing that final barrier into sex meant no holds barred, no desire unexplored, no kink untested. Sherlock was brilliant and John was resourceful, and occasionally there was some regrets and solemn promises about _never again_ , mostly it was incredible and rather creative. If Mrs Hudson was bothered by the noises that now drifted down from her tenants’ flat, she never complained, even when those noises were accompanied by other, less easy to dismiss sounds but they cleaned up after themselves and made sure not to leave _things_ around. Mrs Hudson didn’t care beyond that. Her boys had a penchant for danger and never shied away from what others might think strange or unseemly. Live and let live was her motto.

When John and Sherlock committed, they did it, heart and soul. With eyes wide open, understanding that the man in front of him was perfect and beautiful and flawed and filled with his own brand of poison, they both knew that the love they felt would heal their other half if given unstintingly, so that’s what they did, tying themselves together in as many ways as they could so that none could sunder them.


End file.
